Sweet Dreams
by TerraMacMillan
Summary: Dean Ambrose didn't have much to live for before Emma Dashwood came into his life. Now that she's gone, what's left for the lunatic fringe? One-shot.


**Sweet Dreams**

**Summary: **Dean Ambrose didn't have much to live for before Emma Dashwood came into his life. Now that she's gone, what's left for the lunatic fringe?

**Disclaimer: **The only character that I can lay claim to is Alison. Everyone else is either known from WWE or based upon people who are known to exist outside of WWE.

**A/N:** Hi all! Okay, so sometimes my brain hates me and decides that it wants to write angsty and sad things. This one-shot is the product of one of those moments. Also, this story is in no way connected to _The Sexcapades of Dean and Emma. _They are two entirely separate works that do not occur within the same timeline. That will become obvious as you read it. And I think it is only fair to warn you: THIS CONTAINS POSSIBLE TRIGGERS! There are suicidal thoughts and lots of angst ahead. I'm hoping that I portray it appropriately. Let me know what you think!

(-)

To say that life had been hard for Dean Ambrose was like saying that the universe was 'kinda big'. His father had spent most of his childhood piss-ass drunk and beating his mother or in jail. His mother had had her own substance abuse problems and tried to make up for it by letting him do whatever he wanted and gifting him with weapons like brass knuckles and box cutters for the inevitable fights with neighborhood bullies. They had lived in a rough area and it was her way of trying to protect him.

Dean faulted both of his parents for a lot of things, but his mom had –at the very least- seemed to care a little. She died when he was fifteen from a heart attack (the doctors had been very vague about whether or not it had been partially or completely caused by her drug use) and Dean had taken that opportunity to drop out of high school and pursue the one thing that he had ever enjoyed in his short life; the one thing that kept him going through all the bullshit: Professional wrestling.

Growing up in Cincinnati had its perks in that it was, at the time, the home of the Heartland Wrestling Association. Aspiring professional wrestlers came from all over the country to train there and it was practically in Dean's back yard. With hard work, persistence, the stubbornness of mule, and more than a little bit of crazy, Dean rose through the ranks of HWA and began his path towards WWE.

The day that he signed his WWE contract, Dean had one thought on his mind. Work his way to the top and become WWE World Heavyweight Champion. Only then would reach the highest point in his life; only then would all the work and turmoil and bullshit be worth it. The World Heavyweight Championship. That was the only thing that mattered.

Dean wasn't expecting friends. He had snarled when he heard the names Roman Reigns and Seth Rollins and fantasized about pummeling them into bloody heaps after seeing them perform and recognizing the threat they posed to his rise to the top. But strangely enough, after before forced to work with them, after feuding and fighting for months on end, he began to feel a burgeoning respect for them. After forming The Shield and having to spend more time with them, that respect became friendship and brotherhood. And it felt good. It felt good to have friends; people to watch his back. It was more than he could have asked for; the icing on the cake that was his quest for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship.

Then she came along. Emma.

For months, Dean had cursed whatever higher power led WWE to bring Emma up to the main roster. He had seen her during his last few months at NXT and had thought her to be very attractive. When he and The Shield jumped to the main roster, he decided to forget about Emma and place his focus back on dominating WWE. Just a few months later, however, the bubbly Australian was on Raw, dancing around with Santino and generally just being the most beautiful and adorable woman on the planet. She was very distracting, particularly since she took it upon herself to be unnaturally friendly to absolutely everyone, even the anti-social Shield.

It hadn't taken long for the negligible attraction that Dean had felt during NXT to become a full blown crush. He had never met anyone so positive and enthusiastic about life in general and in spite of –or perhaps because of- his overall depravity, he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. The part of Dean that had always craved normalcy, the part that he had been forced over and over again to suppress, burst forth and begged him to take a chance, for once in his life, on something other than one night stands and drunken hook ups.

Dean ranted and raved and stressed about the situation until Roman and Seth told him that if he didn't grow a pair and ask Emma out, that they would do it for him. Dean had called their bluff, insisting that they were just being assholes and would never follow through with their threat. He had been wrong. Within two weeks of that conversation and complete inaction on Dean's part, Seth and Roman had practically dragged him towards Emma after a show. Emma had smiled brightly and greeted them wholeheartedly as Seth, hands clamped on Dean's shoulders, said, "Hey Emma. Dean here would like to take you out tonight. Are you free?"

"Um… Yes…" She said hesitantly, her smile falling as she was caught completely off guard. Dean tried to wrench himself away from Seth, but Roman caught him by the arms and forced him to stay in place.

"Excellent!" Seth replied, a wide grin across his face.

"We'll let you two hash out the details," Roman added, his familiar smirk gracing his lips, as he released Dean and clapped his brother on the back.

Seth and Roman then left, leaving the awkwardly uncomfortable pair to figure things out. Even if Dean bolted, they knew that Emma would search him down and ask for an explanation. Luckily it hadn't come to that and Dean took Emma out for ice cream after the show.

Emma had found his reluctance to ask her out rather endearing and, despite the fact that she would have never thought to date Dean Ambrose even if she thought he was rather attractive and very funny, Emma asked him out for a second date. After five weeks of casually dating, Emma then asked Dean to date exclusively. Dean had been thrilled, but terrified. None of his few relationships could have been called stable. He didn't want to put Emma through that kind of bullshit, but she insisted. They had their ups and downs, their trials and tribulations, but after three years –not long after her twenty eighth birthday- Emma had finally gotten bored with waiting and asked Dean to marry her.

She had expected Dean to mope about the fact that he hadn't asked her, but she was pleasantly surprised when he quickly agreed, but questioned why she hadn't gone down on one knee. Her derisive snort and eye roll were ingrained in Dean's brain; he would remember that moment until the day he died. He would remember everything about Emma until that day; her smile, her laugh, how beautiful she had been walking down the aisle with her father, the way she kissed him, the way she cuddled against him after sex, the way she said his name… There was nothing he could forget.

Six years into their marriage, Dean's good fortune seemed to have finally run out. During their rare time off from traveling, Emma kissed Dean goodbye and headed out for a shopping trip. It shouldn't have taken more than an hour. When Dean got a call from the police an hour and a half after Emma departed, the feeling that he'd had that something wasn't right exploded into absolute fear. When the officer on the line told him that Emma was in the hospital, he didn't even let the man finish before demanding to know which one. It was entirely possible that he'd broken almost every traffic law known to man getting there, but Dean didn't care. His thoughts were only on Emma.

After arriving at the hospital, the officer who met him there said that Emma had been struck by another vehicle while driving home from her shopping trip. The other driver, who had been drunk, had died instantly and Emma was in surgery. From that moment, Dean was lost in a haze. All that mattered to him was Emma.

Two weeks from that moment had passed, but the haze hadn't faded. Emma was gone. He had held onto the tiniest shred of hope he could have for those two weeks, but it was for nothing. She wasn't able to hold on and come back to him. He was sitting alone in the bedroom he had shared with Emma, acutely aware of the fact that all of their bedding smelled exactly like her. Raw was playing in the background, the whole show a tribute to her, but he wasn't watching. He was too focused on the framed photograph in his hand. It was Emma's favorite from their wedding day.

Thoughtlessly downing the beer in his hand, Dean tossed the bottle away and quickly procured another. He'd had far too much to drink, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Emma was the one who kept him away from alcohol most of the time. She wasn't a huge drinker; the occasional glass of wine, mixed drink, or single beer was usually her self-imposed limit because she wanted to be as clean as possible in order to keep up with the high physical demands of their job. She always watched out for him, letting him know when he was getting too drunk, but never insisting that he stop drinking altogether.

Professional wrestling kept him alive when he had nothing else to live for. Emma… She had become the thing he lived for. He needed her like he needed air; she supported him through injuries, personal troubles, and being an ass in general. He knew that he wasn't the easiest person to deal with, but somehow Emma did so willingly. She was a fucking saint and he hadn't deserved her.

Dean couldn't live without her. He knew that. He knew that he had relied too much on her. What did he have without her? Without Emma, he was just Dean Ambrose; scumbag, lunatic fringe, and all around fuck up. There was no point in sticking around with her gone.

_There was no point in sticking around with her gone_. The thought echoed in his head louder and louder as each minute passed. What could he possibly do without her? What purpose could he serve? Emma was everything and without her… Dean placed the beer bottle down, leaning forward and gripping the framed photograph in both hands. Emma was gone, but Dean could follow. He had said in his wedding vows that he would follow Emma to the ends of the Earth. One thing Dean Ambrose was not was a liar.

Several tears dripped down his face before he managed to stifle them. He needed Emma; he needed to be with her. Looking up from the photograph, Dean jumped slightly when his reflection stared back at him. How had he gotten to their master bathroom? When? Dean tried to shake the thought from his mind and his eyes landed on a familiar orange bottle sitting on the small storage bin next to the toilet.

Raising his eyebrows, Dean pulled one hand away from the photograph and picked up the bottle. His breathing became heavy as he read the label; pain pills prescribed by WWE doctors after a minor shoulder injury several months before. He hadn't really needed them and, after a while, forgot about them. But now… Maybe now they could be useful.

There were quite a few left in the bottle and he knew he had plenty of beer to chase them down. Yes; it could work. Quick, easy, painless… He could finish them off, go to sleep, and see Emma on the other side. Yes. Dean locked eyes with the immortalized Emma in the photograph before lifting it and pressing a kiss to the cool glass above her face, "I'll see you soon, Blondie." He murmured, walking slowly to the chair in the corner of the bedroom, snatching up his open beer and several others on the way.

Sitting calmly, Dean raised the orange bottle again and read the instructions. _2 tabs by mouth every 6 hours as needed for pain. Do not exceed 8 tabs in a 24 hour period._ Stoically, Dean opened the bottle and dumped two tablets into his hand. He quickly popped them into his mouth and took a large swig of his beer to wash them down. He repeated the process, taking two more and chasing them with beer. And a third time.

The pills and beer went down so smoothly, he didn't even have to think about it. The fourth set of pills rested feather-like in his hand as his arm raised towards his mouth. The pills were millimeters away from his mouth when a soft knocking sounded through the room. Dean's head jerked toward the door, the pills falling from his hand, as the door opened and a small figure peaked in.

"Daddy?" The figure asked as it stepped inside the door, the light from the room illuminating its features. Emma's cheeks, nose, lips, and those beautiful blue eyes accented by Dean's dimples and sandy curls. Alison. _Oh fucking hell, Alison._

"Al?" Dean replied, the nickname falling sluggishly from his tongue as if his mouth had forgotten how to say it.

"Daddy, I can't sleep…" The small girl said, her large eyes boring into him sadly. She held two stuff animals, a monkey and a teddy bear, close to her chest as if they were a life line. Dean remembered when Emma bought her those toys. It had been her fourth birthday and she told Emma that she wanted 'daddy's monkey' and 'mommy's teddy', the monkey and teddy bear created in their likenesses for younger fans, from WWEShop. Emma had enthusiastically agreed, "Can I sleep with you?"

Dean placed the bottle that he had forgotten he was holding on the ground and rubbed his face with his hands harshly, "Um… Sure, sweetie…"

"Daddy, you okay?" Alison asked, cautiously approaching her obviously frazzled father.

Groaning, Dean ran his hands through his hair. Sighing heavily, he slid off of the chair, kneeled before his little girl, looked straight into her eyes, and truthfully said, "Not really, sweetie."

"I miss mommy…" She said sadly.

"I do too, sweetie," Dean replied, pulling her into a hug. She knew that Emma was never coming home, but he didn't know how much she really understood. How can a four year old truly understand that her mother was dead thanks to a reckless asshole with no respect for the lives of those around him?

Alison pulled away from him after a moment, her nose crinkled, "Daddy, you smell…"

Dean dipped his head and pulled his shirt to his nose, taking a long sniff. She wasn't wrong. How long had it been since he showered? How long had he been wearing that shirt? Gently placing his hand on her cheek, Dean said, "Sorry, Al. Daddy forgot bath time without mommy to remind him. But you are such a good girl for reminding me. Just like your mommy would have wanted." Alison hugged her monkey and teddy tighter, "Why don't you climb into mommy and daddy's bed and try to sleep. I'll go take a bath."

"Okay, daddy." Alison said, turning and climbing carefully onto the bed under the watchful eye of her father. When she was snuggled under the covers, Dean snatched up the beers, pill bottle, and the pills he had dropped and tried to clandestinely sneak them into the master bathroom. When the door was closed behind him, Dean collapsed onto the toilet and choked back sobs. God, when was the last time he'd thought about Alison? Fucking Christ…

The beer bottles and pills had fallen to the floor when he collapsed. Luckily none had broken, but even if they had it wouldn't have mattered was that he had forgotten about his daughter. There was no other way to put it. He was a scumbag; a monster. Groaning in disgust at himself, Dean jumped up and stripped his clothes off, throwing them in the corner of the bathroom.

Without thinking, Dean turned the shower on hot and practically dove under the heavy stream. The water burned his skin, but he didn't care. Perhaps it could burn away his failure at being a husband and a father. Perhaps it could burn away the pain of losing Emma. He hurt. He hurt so much that he wanted to follow Emma to the ends of the Earth and whatever afterlife existed. But Alison… She missed her mother. She would miss him. What had he done in his past to make fate force this decision upon him? The love of his life or his little girl? Why had he been given so much good in the past decade just to have it shatter in a moment?

"Fuck…" Dean breathed heavily, shoving two of his fingers down his throat. He had six heavy-duty pain pills and a shit-ton of beer still sitting in his gut. He had no clue what would happen when they started to react. He had wanted to die, to see Emma again, and part of him still wanted to. But… for now… Dean dropped to his knees as he gagged and retched, hours of cheap alcohol and prescription pills flowing from his mouth.

Dean wasn't sure how long it took to empty his stomach. When he began regaining control over himself, he slid back against the wall of the shower and watched the filth filter down the drain. His whole body was shivering despite the heat of the water that was barreling down on him. All of the memories of the past two weeks rushed into his mind. He was surprised at the amount he remembered despite living in a haze the whole time.

Emma had lived through surgery, but had been kept alive by life support with little chance of waking up. Dean had managed to call her parents during his panic while she was in the operating room. Hours later, Jane and Harry Dashwood were on a flight from Melbourne, keeping in as constant contact as they could with Dean in Las Vegas and their three sons in Melbourne. Dean, meanwhile, received updates on Alison from Mr. and Mrs. Horowitz, their aging neighbors who treated Alison like the granddaughter they never had and willingly took her for the day while he stayed at the hospital.

When Jane and Harry arrived, Emma had long since been out of the operating room and the doctors had already informed Dean of her prospects. It took two long, agonizing weeks for Dean, Jane, and Harry to come to the painful agreement that Emma's injuries were never going to get better and that eventually the life support would only serve to keep her in pain. When all the machines were shut down and only the solid beep of her heart monitor flat lining sounded, Dean climbed into the bed, held her in his arms, and cried more tears than he had ever cried in his life as he begged for her to forgive him for letting her go. When he could no longer hold her, Dean had gently kissed her mouth and wished her sweet dreams, something that Emma would do for him every night even if she was angry at him. It had become their thing. He couldn't let her go without it.

Jane and Harry were staying in the guest room down the hall. If Alison hadn't been the one to find him, it would have been them. The people who had been more like parents to him then his own, who treated him with love and respect despite his shady past. The people who were mourning with him, who had cared for his daughter for the past two weeks while he was stuck in a grief and booze fueled haze. Fuck… He would have shattered them.

Dean thought back to just a few hours before to the tribute for Emma on Raw. Shane McMahon -who had finally returned to WWE to save it from the power-hungry monstrosity that was his father, sister, and brother-in-law- had begun the night with a eulogy and a moment of silence. He spoke of how Emma had recently decided to retire from competition within the next two years, as Alison was going to start school in that time and would not be able to travel with her parents as often, and mourned the fact that she would never have a retirement match. He mourned the loss of Emma's love for the business and how she could have taken that passion to the corporate level.

During the eulogy, all of the Superstars and Divas stood morosely around the ring. The roster looked quite a bit different from that fateful night when Seth and Roman asked Emma out on Dean's behalf, but there were several familiar faces. Seth and Roman stood on either side of Paige, their hands clasped with hers. Tears streaked down her face as she Shane spoke about what a good friend and fierce competitor Emma was; about how her dream was to be a wrestler and even after numerous setbacks, she had risen to be one of the most respected Divas and Divas Champions in WWE history.

Bayley –still as loveable and hug hungry as ever- was being held up by Big Cass and her husband, Enzo Amore, despite the fact that the two men had been feuding as of late. Her legs couldn't hold her up; she was completely reliant upon them to keep her standing. Carmella tried to keep herself together the best that she could, keeping her hands busy by constantly wiping Bayley's tears away and fixing her hair and make-up at every opportunity. Cass's long-time love Alexa Bliss stood on his other side, holding tightly to a bottle of bubbles as the glitter on her face mixed with her tears, making her face look even more luminous underneath the intense lights in the arena.

Soon-to-retire Charlotte, who had come a long way in her respect for Emma, had her attention firmly on some of the more troublesome Divas –current Divas champion Sasha Banks among them- that she didn't trust to not make a scene. This was Emma's moment; the moment for Emma's fans, friends, and family to mourn her and Charlotte would be damned if she let anyone screw it up. Charlotte and Emma had had their differences in the past, but no one deserved to have their memory tarnished and Charlotte had looked ready to make sure that didn't happen.

Most of the talent that had been in NXT during and after Emma's jump to the main roster was still with WWE and a great deal of them had been friendly –if not friends- with Emma. The bubbly Australian was kind to anyone she came across unless they gave her reason to not be. The loss of that genuine kindness was felt throughout the WWE universe and, once Shane finished his speech, practically everyone in the arena opened the small plastic bottles that they held and began sending thousands of bubbles flying through the air.

Paige and Bayley incorporated some of Emma's signature moves in to their tag team match against Sasha Banks and a relative newcomer named Lola Frey. Paige eventually forced Lola to submit to the _Emma Lock _as a tribute to her best friend, tears streaming down her face as she did so. It was strange seeing Paige cry; it was something that didn't happen often.

It was at that point that Dean's memories of Raw became hazy.

Groaning, Dean stood up. The water was starting to cool a bit, so he quickly scrubbed himself with soap and shampooed his hair. He didn't want to go back to Alison still smelling like hell. It only took him a few minutes before he was out and drying himself off. Wrapping a towel around himself, Dean snuck quietly back into the room to grab a clean pair of pajamas. Alison seemed asleep, so he carefully crept back into the bathroom to change. When he returned, Alison's big blue eyes were staring at him.

"Hey, baby… I thought you were sleeping."

"The pillow smells like mommy." Alison said sadly.

"I know, sweetie." Dean replied, running his hand over his daughter's head soothingly, "But try to get some sleep. You need your rest," Alison nodded, "Sweet dreams, Al." He couldn't wish it to Emma anymore, but he could wish it to their daughter.

"You sleep." Alison insisted when he moved to get off the bed.

"I will, but I have to check on a few things. I'll be back." Alison seemed satisfied with that, snuggling with her monkey on the side of the bed that had been Emma's.

Quietly, Dean grabbed his laptop and exited the room, making his way to the living room. Sitting on the couch, he connected to the internet and searched for anything regarding tributes to Emma. They weren't hard to find. Unsurprisingly, the first thing he found was in regards to the tribute at Raw. The second was a tribute set up by Paige's family, the Knights.

Emma had become a good friend of the family, Paige's occasionally terrifying mother Saraya frequently referring to her as 'my Australian daughter.' It was as if all of Paige's relatives had come out of the woodwork to pay homage to Emma, an endeavor that seemed to be spearheaded by Saraya and Paige's father Ricky. They had posted a plethora a pictures and videos of their family and friends blowing bubbles in memory of Emma and the practice had grown from there, culminating with the thousands of bubbles at the Raw tribute.

Fans around around the globe had taken the Knight's tribute and posted pictures and videos of their own. Facebook, twitter, tumblr, and instagram were filled with tributes, as well as condolences and well wishes for Emma's friends and family. Most were directed towards him and Alison, though quite a few were sent out to her parents and brothers despite the fact that few fans knew their names. There were images of large vigils in Australia, the country clearly grieving for their first ever WWE Diva, and the City of Las Vegas had –at some point- held one as well. Dean wasn't sure when that could have happened, but it was right there on the screen.

Dean was so engrossed in the images that he didn't hear footsteps approach behind him, "Dean? What the hell are you doing up this late?"

Dean's head shot up and he found himself looking straight into the eyes of his father-in-law, "Harry… I could ask you the same question."

"I heard crying. I thought I should make sure everything was alright." Harry replied. It was only then that Dean realized that he had, in fact, been crying. His face and neck were wet with tears and his hands were shaking uncontrollably, "What are you looking at?"

"Um…" Dean began, "It's, um… tributes. To Em. The Knights put some stuff up and the world followed apparently."

Harry nodded, "Yes, I saw Saraya and Ricky's tribute. It was very kind of them. Emma always spoke highly of them. Are they coming to the funeral?"

"I don't see why they wouldn't."

"Can you introduce us? Jane and I would love to speak with them." Dean nodded, "Dean… Please say something… You haven't spoken more than a handful of words in two weeks."

"What do you want to me say, Harry?" Dean asked bitterly, placing the laptop on the coffee table.

"_Something._" Harry replied exasperatedly, "Dean, you've been a zombie for weeks and since we pulled life support…" He took a deep, shuttering breath, "Dean, Jane and I are worried about you. We just lost our daughter, we can't lose you too." A sob caught in Dean's throat as his head collapsed into his hands, "Please talk to me, son."

Dean cringed, having never fully become used to Jane and Harry calling him that. The whole Dashwood family was freaking sunshine and rainbows, so open minded and warm and willing to give anyone a chance and somehow the man whose closest understanding of family love was the gift of a box cutter and brass knuckles had became a part of that family. It was insane, "I… I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Anything…" Dean admitted heavily, "I keep wishing that that bastard was still alive so that I could kill him! I can't be without her, Harry. Em was everything to me; everything good that had ever happened in my life in human form." The tears that were falling down Dean's face would have shocked most people. Dean Ambrose was the lunatic fringe; he could be cocky, unpredictable, and full of rage. But tears and despair… They were not fitting for the crazed Dean Ambrose. Harry Dashwood, however, didn't see the lunatic fringe. He never had. He saw exactly what his daughter had seen; a good man who had been beaten and broken by life in ways that most people couldn't imagine and had learned to protect himself in the only way he could.

Without thinking, Harry buckled onto the couch next to Dean and wrapped his arms around the younger man. As Dean leaned against him and gripped his arms tight as if holding on for dear life, Harry tried to be assuring, "You still have us. Even with Emma gone, even if Alison had never been born, you are our son."

A choked sob burst from Dean's mouth as he tried to catch his breath. He would never know how the pure goodness and light that was the Dashwood family had ever allowed themselves to be tainted by his presence, "Harry…" He moaned, "There are… pills… in the master bathroom… Please get rid of them."

"Pills?"

"Pain meds from Doc. For my shoulder."

"That was ages ago…" Harry stated, confused.

"Never got around to giving them back." Dean admitted shamefully, "I… wanted to be with Emma again so bad… They seemed like a good option." Harry stiffened, "Al… I forgot about her… Can you believe that?" He asked, practically in hysterics, "I forgot my own daughter. I'm no better than my asshole old man…"

"Dean. Jonathan. Ambrose." Harry said fiercely, turning Dean harshly. He gripped Dean painfully by the shoulders and forced the lunatic fringe to look him in the eyes, "You are _not _that man. Emma wouldn't have loved you if you were. She and Alison couldn't have asked for a better man in their lives." Dean tried to protest, but Harry stopped him, "You're grieving. Now tell me what happened."

Dean forced himself to think back, "I… I took a few, had some beer… I was gonna take more, but… Al couldn't sleep and asked to stay in my room. I want Emma, but Al… She would lose both of us. I can't do that to her." Pulling himself away from Harry, Dean ran a hand through his disheveled curls, "But… I can't promise I won't think like that again. I need you to get rid of them." Harry nodded, "Um… just don't flush them or something. Emma said it screwed with the environment. You know how she gets… got… about that kind of thing." Harry nodded, tears in his eyes. Emma had become quite the environmental champion, particularly after Alison's birth. The thought of Alison and her generation having to contend with the consequences of unchecked pollution, deforestation, and the extinction of entire ecosystems did not sit well with Emma. It was just one more example of her beautiful heart shining through.

"I'll get rid of them," Harry assured Dean, "But Dean… Please… if you ever feel that way again. Talk to me. Talk to Jane. Talk to your friends. We all need you, not just Alison. We love you." Dean nodded, "It won't get any easier, but I believe we'll make it through."

Dean chuckled sadly, "If I had a fraction of the optimism you Dashwood's have…" He left it off there. If he had the fraction of the optimism that the Dashwood's had, he would be able to see a light at the end of the tunnel that was his despair. He would see all the joy and happiness that the future could bring. He would see a lot of things that he couldn't see. For now, he had to trust Harry, because he certainly couldn't trust himself.


End file.
